


Keeping Warm

by Louffox



Series: The Feel-Goods [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Boys In Love, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I couldn't do one without doing the other of course, M/M, Sicfic, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: Alec has a cold and Magnus tends to him, but who's really taking care of who here?





	Keeping Warm

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a sicfic with Magnus and couldn't help but write a companion to it. I just love putting these boys in situations where they've got to take care of each other, because they're so pure and in love and good at helping each other. So this started out as a short drabble and somehow ended up being a 12 page long document. Whew. And I'm starting a series- The Feel-Goods, where I'm going to put all the fluffy sweet nothings that I'm writing right now. And I need more ideas for that, because I have a burning need to write meaningless fluff right now. So!
> 
> PROMPT ME.

Alec sniffed.

  
  


Magnus was measuring out crushed bottlefly dust, cursing lightly as his scale displayed 1.2 grams instead of 1.0. He poked at the pile of dust with a small metal tool.

 

Alec sniffed again.

 

Magnus lifted off a thumbnail sized scoop of dust. Now the scale read 0.9 grams.

 

Alec coughed.

 

Magnus dropped his scoopula and spun around. “Are you getting sick?”

 

“Don't be ridiculous,” Alec said, not even looking up from the book he was reading, sprawled lengthwise over the couch on his back.

 

“What, are shadowhunters immune to pathogens? Because last I checked, they weren't. But then, you folks do volunteer a lot of untruths. Like how stamina runes don't just apply to the battlefield-”

 

“That was Jace’s idea,” Alec interrupted, still not looking away from his book. He did, however, blush faintly, a victory Magnus delighted at.

 

“Please don't ever go to the toe-head toad for sexual advice ever again. Isabelle gets way more than Jace does, and she's not shy to talk. She was telling me last week about how she, Simon, Raphael, and this shape-shifting puca-”

 

“Please no. I really don't wanna hear about my sister’s sex life,” Alec groaned. He sniffed again, and Magnus studied him suspiciously. He had fallen silent, still reading intently, so Magnus turned back to his bottlefly dust.

 

1.3 grams.

 

“Oh, for fu-”

 

Alec sneezed, and Magnus turned just in time to see him drop the book on his own face.

 

“Oh Edom, you actually are sick,” Magnus sighed.

 

“Mags, your scale is on fire,” Alec said, swiftly knocking the book off his face. Magnus didn't pay it any mind, slowly walking over to Alec, twirling his scoopula menacingly.

 

“Its part of the spell. You don't think you're even a little bit feverish? It's okay, I won't tell anyone.”

 

“Burning your scale is part of a foliage increasing potion?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Burning a high tech scale is part of ancient magic?”

 

“Its- technically it's an analytical balance. You sure you feel fine?”

 

“By the Angel, I'm fine,” Alec huffed, rolling his eyes and clearly trying (failing) to look unworried about Magnus’s slow approach.

 

The High Warlock of Brooklyn stopped when his knees had hit the edge of the couch.

 

Alec was fidgeting and looking altogether anxious, but to his credit, he managed to ignore him and keep reading for almost ninety seconds.

 

He finally cast the book aside. “ _ What, _ Magnus?”

 

Magnus let him stew for another full 6 seconds before swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him and laying his hands splayed on his chest.

 

“Oh,” Alec murmured, sliding his hands up Magnus’s thighs. “Done with your potion then?”

 

“No, but what can I say? You're just too hot,” Magnus said coyly, leaning forward a little to smooth his palms up Alec’s chest. One hand continued to glide up his neck while the other toyed with the hem of his shirt. Alec’s pupils flared a little and one eyebrow went up, but he relaxed into Magnus’s touch.

 

He continued to slide his hand up the side of his neck, brushing down the edge of his jaw, then dragging his fingers lightly over his lips. Alec lifted his chin, trying to catch a finger, but Magnus was already brushing over his cheekbone. The shadowhunter sighed a little shakily, leaning into the touch-

 

“You  _ are _ feverish!” Magnus declared. He had the back of his hand pressed against Alec’s forehead and looked triumphant.

 

Alec groaned and covered his face with both hands. “You’re a menace,” he said, muffled under his hands.

 

“You’re sick. And you were going to kiss me and probably do all sorts of other things, infecting me with your germs! I can’t believe you,” Magnus mock-scolded. “Seriously, though, it’s fine if you’re not feeling well. I won’t quarantine you or bleed you or anything?”

 

“ _ Bleed _ me?”

 

“You know. Reintroducing balance to the four humors.”

 

Alec moved his hands down enough to give him a flat stare.

 

“1800’s medicine was wild,” Magnus said, flapping a hand dismissively. “I just spat out the worst thing I could think. Why the reluctance to admit illness? I love you and I don’t mind taking care of you.”

 

“It’s just- I don’t know. I guess I’m always a little in denial. And just to be clear, this still doesn’t actually mean I’m sick. It could just pass,” he said, waving a finger at Magnus.

 

“It could.”

 

“It could! And I… I just really hate being sick. It’s like being weak, like suddenly someone else has to carry my weight, and that feels crappy. Nobody- and you don’t have to either- nobody needs to put their life on hold or go out of their way to take care of me. It makes me feel pathetic. And… when I was growing up. It wasn’t- like that. When I got sick, Mom would always make herself scarce, because she said she couldn’t afford to catch it and be off duty, she had a career and couldn’t risk being knocked on her ass by a cold, or flu, or stomach bug, or whatever. Dad didn’t really do much either, he’s got no bedside manner and would either pretend not to notice or would hover awkwardly. So I just take care of myself.”

 

Magnus listened silently, maintaining careful control of his features. Damn Maryse and Robert to Edom. What a pair of asshats. The mental image of a young Alec, pale with fever and shivering alone in an empty house, trying to take care of himself, made his heart ache. 

 

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus sighed, stroking his hair a little. “I’m sorry. But you don’t have to do that anymore, I’m here. I don’t mind, I’m not putting my life on hold for you, and I’m honored to carry your weight for a while. And- you may have noticed by now, but I’m a domestic at heart, and the idea of getting to play nurse is thrilling in all the right ways,” he demurred.

 

“Just want to reiterate- I might not actually be sick. I’ve got that vague thing going on- like when you want to cringe when you swallow, but your throat doesn’t actually hurt, and your sinuses feel a little tender but nothing is actually wrong. Maybe I’m developing allergies.”

 

“Maybe. But I just wanted to have this discussion first, because communication is so important. If you truly want me to clear out and leave you alone, I will, but only if you’re genuinely upset by my doting.”

 

Alec hummed. “No. I don’t want you to leave- this is your loft, anyways- I like having you around. I couldn’t imagine telling you to leave.”

 

“Good. And don’t worry about me catching anything- not that you’ve got anything!- because as a warlock, the only time I can catch a mundane illness is when I’ve drained my magic. Then, and only then, I’m vulnerable to all the mortal and mundane things, but not now. Ah… please don’t mention that to anyone. It’s sort of a warlock secret,” he added.

 

“Of course. But… if I can’t give you anything, then…” he trailed off, hands resuming his slow path up Magnus’s thighs.

 

Magnus laughed, giving his hips a little squeeze with his knees, and leaned down to cover Alec’s mouth with his own, still smiling into the kiss.

 

His foliage potion went unfinished. He had something much better to do.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Magnus woke before Alec. That was unusual- Alec was a morning person of the worst sort, the kind that had already gone running and made coffee and picked up fresh bagels before the sun was fully up, smiling and making small talk incessantly before 9 AM, always seemingly impervious to the rest of the world’s sleepy hostility.

 

And his snoring was bad. It wasn’t his usual little whistling huffs, but a lower, dragging rumble that spoke of an inflamed throat and excessive mucus. 

 

Magnus slid out of bed, pulling on loose cotton pants and one of his many sweaters that were technically Alec’s, and went to the kitchen. He considered the coffee pot. He’d gotten it because Alec had some moral issue with just summoning coffee from one of the many cafes in the city. (“That’s stealing!” “I’ve saved this ungrateful city from certain destruction more times than I can count, consider it a tax for saving everyone’s lives.” “The Clave pays you for that.” “Look, I’ll just go dump a handful of diamonds in the Starbucks register and consider that credit for past and future coffee, look, I’ll go now!-”) Magnus himself had never used it, and didn’t even think of it as his coffee pot. It was Alec’s coffee pot. And he knew the theory behind it- he was centuries old, he knew many things- but he’d never actually used it.

 

He opened the top of it and looked down into the guts of the machine. Right. So… the beans went in there, but wasn’t there supposed to be a filtration thing? Maybe the machine did that. And the water… where did that go? He didn’t see any obvious fill tank. Was it tubed up to his sink? 

 

He looked back at the bedroom. Alec was still snoring away.

 

A snap of his fingers later, and he was pouring cups of starbucks into their mugs, and hiding the empty paper cup evidence in the bottom of the garbage bin. There, see? He could make coffee.

 

He read a book for a little while. Summoned a lox on a bagel. Ordered a new analytical balance on Amazon and put a rush on it. Repainted his toenails robins egg blue.

 

A peek into the bedroom showed Alec still sleeping soundly. Magnus retrieved his phone from the charger and thumbed to Isabelle’s contact.

 

_ >Alexander is still sleeping _

 

A reply came a minute later.

 

_ >Is he dead? _

 

_ >No, he’s breathing. Very loudly. He sounds like a chainsaw. _

 

_ >Probably sick then. Jace is too, they did a stupid thing per usual and spent Monday morning upstate in a river somewhere, negotiating with a rogue kelpie hoard. _

 

_ >Yikes. I’ll probably keep him here for the day, maybe tomorrow too _

 

_ >Have fun playing nurse. I’ve actually got a costume if you want to borrow it. _

 

_ >As if I don’t already have a nurse costume _

 

_ >Sorry forgot who I was talking to for a sec lol _

 

Magnus continued to idly text Isabelle until she said she was going to train with Clary, and then he checked his instagram. Simon had posted half a dozen black and white photos of his music equipment so Magnus blocked him again, deciding that he would absolutely resist Clary’s puppy eyes and wouldn’t add him again.

 

He tiptoed back into the bedroom and took a snapchat video of Alec snoring and sent it to him, knowing he’d get scolded, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to prove it to him.

 

It was almost another full hour before he heard signs of life (aside from snoring) in the bedroom. He looked up from the wiki article about potato spindle tuber virus to see Alec stumbling through the doorway.

 

“You’re looking bed-raggled,” Magnus said, noting his next level bedhead and backwards shirt and pillow marked cheek.

 

“Isn’t it bedraggled?”

 

“Not in this case,” Magnus said, setting his phone down and walking over to him. “You sound terrible.”

 

“I feel terrible,” he admitted, leaning into Magnus’s touch when he felt his forehead. “Mmmm. Your hands are cold. Feels nice.” His voice sounded like he’d been chain smoking since birth.

 

“No, your forehead is hot.”

 

Alec shrugged noncommittally and meandered over to the couch, where he flopped down, as though he’d journeyed from the other side of the world and not just the bed a few meters away. He jackknifed back up just as quickly, then groaned and held his head. “What time is it? I way overslept-”

 

“Already texted Isabelle and said you were going to be out. Even Heads of Institutes take sick days,” Magnus said, collecting his coffee mug from the kitchen and bringing it back to temperature with a touch. “Do you feel up to breakfast?”

 

“I… what?”

 

“You’re sick. I’m helping. Breakfast,” Magnus explained with his usual florid and grand way with words.

 

“I mean… I’m not hungry. I’ve got no appetite, but I don’t feel nauseous.”

 

“Hmm. Head cold, then. Once you eat, you’ll feel a little better. Any requests?”

 

“Mmmm-nmm,” Alec mumbled. He’d stretched out to grab a throw pillow and had curled around it, burying his face in it. It was purple and excessively tasseled.

 

“Cook’s choice, then,” Magnus said, heading for the kitchen.

 

Half an hour later, he plonked two single-serve cast iron pans onto the coffee table, and sat on the floor beside one. Alec startled awake.

 

“Shakshuka, tea, pain relievers, and juice. Abominably with ice, just how you like it, you heathen,” Magnus teased, indicating to the spread. Alec sat up, blinking with confusion.

 

“Shal- shuk- what?”

 

“Shakshuka. It… it’s kind of my personal comfort food.”

 

“Where’s it from?” Alec asked, looking interested and picking up his tea, sipping it gingerly.

 

“After I left Indonesia, when I was taken in by the Silent Brothers in Spain- there was only one of the brothers who I would communicate with. I didn’t even really talk much. He was the youngest of all of them and was originally from Israel. He used to cook this for dinner every Sunday, and additionally when I was sick- which was often, as I was still coming into my magic and frequently used in in the most uneconomical ways, burning far too much power for small tasks. It’s a tomato and red pepper base with onion, garlic, paprika, cumin, pepper, cayenne, and absolutely not with potatoes, you wouldn’t believe how demented turkish cuisine is-”

 

“Wait, you made this?” Alec asked, freezing from where he’d been blowing on a spoonful to cool it off.

 

“Yes, why?”

 

“You can cook?”

 

Magnus pouted. “I made you tea and got you medicine and worked hard to make a hot, healthy meal for you, and you’re all ‘you can cook?’ I’m over 400 years old, Alexander, I survived before take out existed.”

 

“I’m just… you’re right, yeah. I’ve just never seen you cook before.”

 

“I enjoy cooking, but only on my own terms. I like cooking something when I feel like cooking something. Cooking when I’m hungry is terrible, because I don’t want to be cooking, I want to be eating.”

 

“That makes sense, I guess.” He finally took a bite, still looking suspicious. He blinked. “Wow. That’s actually really good.”

 

“Yes, it actually is,” Magnus said, a little belligerently, tucking into his own dish.

 

When they finished eating, Magnus banished the dirty dishes away and coaxed Alec to lie on his stomach on the couch. He sat on the backs of his thighs and started plucking at his shirt.

 

“Uh. Mags, I love you and usually I’d be all for that, but I’m really not up to it,” Alec said, confused.

 

“No, I’m not trying to seduce you in your weakened state, if that’s what you’re worried about. May I give you a back massage?”

 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

 

“Do your muscles ache at all?”

 

“No. Just throat hurts, head stuffy, dizzy, tired. No body aches, thank the Angel.”

 

“Good. I just figured- if you’re dedicating a day to relaxation, recovery, and self care, then I figured why not go for the full experience?” Magnus explained, getting Alec’s shirt off. He conjured up a little lotion (massage oil was great in theory but left such a mess, staining clothes, causing breakouts, making everyone slippery and shiny, he loathed it) and began at his shoulders, using a touch of magic but mostly just his thumbs and palms.

 

Alec let out a low sound that was more of a rumble than a moan. His arms slumped, one dangling off the couch and onto the floor.

 

Magnus worked his way down Alec’s back, trying to loosen up the tension without actually crossing into deep tissue massage territory, not wanting to make him sore later. Many of his partners had complained about giving massages, saying it was boring and one-sided and made their hands hurt, but Magnus relished it. He loved the way tissue and skin kneaded under his hands, loved to sink his fingers in between shoulderblades and work at the muscles there, and took a great satisfaction in feeling the knots work out under his hands. It was a very visceral pleasure, like cleaning two inches of dust off a sill, or soaking up a spill with a towel. The results of his efforts were immediate and obvious, and the more tense a person was at the beginning, the better.

 

He was halfway up his back again when Alec let out a little snore, less because he wasn’t lying on his back, but still obviously asleep. Magnus lightly caressed his back one last time, before getting up and pulling a light blanket over his bare back.

 

Alec didn’t sleep long. He woke about half an hour later, mumbling with confusion and wiping the drool off his face. Had it been anyone but Alexander Gideon Lightwood drooling on his couch, Magnus would’ve cursed the bejesus out of them for drooling on his couch and then probably burned the couch as well. But it was Alec, and somehow it was cute rather than wrath-inspiring.

 

“Mmmmmnnnfuck,” Alec mumbled, sitting up a little and groaning, pushing his hands against his eyes. Magnus let his magic tug the gauzy curtains closed to dim the room a little.

 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to doze off,” he continued, barely coherent. Magnus touched his face.

 

“You’re not too hot, the medicine still is working, but you sound terrible. More tea?”

 

“Mmmm. I need a tissue,” Alec grumbled, starting to get up. Magnus pushed him down gently and snapped his fingers, appearing a tissue box and a small bin on the end table.

 

“There. Sit and stay while I make you tea. Any preference?”

 

“Peppermint? And I gotta get up anyway, I’ve gotta pee.”

 

“Good choice. Need help?” Magnus offered, already up and getting the kettle on.

 

“No, thanks,” Alec said, standing. He stayed still, upright, swaying for a second, putting his hands on his face again.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Mmmm. Just head rush.” Alec yawned, then ambled his way to the bathroom. By the time he came back, Magnus had finished making the tea and had turned on the TV.

 

They spent the afternoon watching The Hobbit, one of Alec’s favorite movies. He was still reading the trilogy, halfway through the second book, and Magnus had forbade him from watching the movies until he’d read the books. The Hobbit was different- Alec had access to the libraries of Idris and the New York Institute growing up, but nothing else, and those only contained instructional and historical works. He’d stolen The Hobbit once while on one of his first raids, from an apartment that was mostly burned down, interested by the strange demon on the cover. He still had that copy, paperback and barely held together by the last binding threads, and had read it often.

 

Magnus wondered what he’d done when he was sick as a child to entertain himself. Reread his only entertaining book over and over again? Not watch TV, certainly. Nor movies. Maybe he’d just read the Shadowhunter histories, which should’ve been interesting, but somehow the stuffy historians of the Clave had managed to even dull down. It seemed unlikely that someone could make demon wars and violent battles and grand tales of betrayal and unity boring, but perhaps their Angelic blood granted them the ability to do miracles.

 

Alec drowsed, steadily working his way through the box of tissues. Magnus kept his tea mug full and kept to a schedule for fever reducing medicine.

 

“You can’t use magic to fix this?” Alec asked, coughing faintly.

 

“Absolutely not. Warlocks have tried, but it’s difficult. Viruses are peculiar. It used to baffle us, why we could treat wounds and some diseases, but not others. It wasn’t until modern medicine was able to differentiate between a bacteria and a virus that we realized that viruses aren’t affected by magic. Or not in ways we expect. We have a fairly strict hands-off policy when it comes to disease. Very few warlocks dare work with the sick. My friend Catarina works in the ER, but she mostly focuses on injuries, though she does occasionally treat symptoms of dangerous diseases. But even she doesn’t actually try and cure illness. I mean, the yellow fever plague is so fresh in our minds, we don’t want to go down that road again.”

 

“Yellow fever plague?”

 

“Mmm. In 1793, Philadelphia emptied for fear of it. It existed for a while, but was given an extra edge and an introduction to the New World. Nobody figured out if it started in Barbados and went to the Yucatan, or moved in the opposite. Gretel Thelese, a warlock who’s still fairly infamous, fell in love with a slave who’d just been brought over from Africa. He was carrying the virus when she helped him escape and they headed north, trying to get to the United States. He kept falling ill with it, and she used her magic to combat it, pushing the virus back, but it only became stronger, until finally he succumbed to it in New Hampshire. By then, they’d traveled up the whole continent, spreading the strengthened virus as they went. It was unfortunate. A lot of people died, all the way from New Orleans to New York. The president even evacuated the city- the capitol was Philly, then.”

 

“By the Angel,” Alec breathed. “That’s- yeah, please don’t use any magic on my cold.”

 

“I never met Gretel, but she must’ve been one hell of a warlock. If we try and work magic on viruses, usually nothing happens at all. To pour enough power into her lover to save him and push it back, over and over again, for as long as she did- it’s admirable, even if it caused epidemics and widespread death.”

 

“What happened to her? After her lover died?” Alec asked, fumbling for another tissue.

 

“She killed herself. It wasn’t until a decade or so later that the warlock community realized what had happened. A lot of warlocks had seen her as noble and loyal and had assisted in her flight north, and were horrified to realize what she’d done. A hard lesson was learned then. The first lesson was to not fuck with viruses. The second lesson was that if you try and cheat death, it will cheat you instead. She had only just arrived in New Hampshire and was supposedly done running, and had found a small farm to live with her love in, when he died. Not only was her entire struggle fruitless, her love died in the end, but she inadvertently caused thousands and thousands of others to die as well. If she’d let the void take him, none of that would’ve happened.” 

 

“That’s total bullshit.”

 

Magnus blinked in surprise, looking up from the book he’d been thumbing through. Alec was glaring at him the best he could with heavy eyelids, a bright red nose, and a fever blush.

 

“C’mon, Mags, who told you that? Or did you just come up with that? Because I can’t believe that you’d believe that.”

 

“Whyever not?”

 

Alec huffed (and coughed a little more). “I’ve never met someone so incapable of walking away from a person in need of help. I mean, you literally kept a baby bird in a box for two weeks when we found it abandoned. You walked out of a meeting because it needed to be fed consistently and the meeting was interfering with it. And- I’ve seen you look a wolf right in the eyes, and she was going to kill you, but you talked her down and contained her without hurting her. You’ve healed me, brought me back from the brink, enough times that I’ve lost count, and done the same for all my friends, and Raphael, and whatever other metaphorical baby birds arrive at your door.”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“And you’ve spent a whole day cancelling client visits and not even leaving your own loft because I’ve got a head cold. So when you say shit like ‘don’t mess with fate and death, just let people die’, it really pisses me off, because you don’t have to pretend to be a cold and wise immortal with me, I thought. I know you well enough to see right through that, and I thought you’d respect me enough to not try and pull that ‘if fate wants it dead then I’ll just let it die because I’m all knowing and old and wise’ shit with me.” He’d ranted himself right breathless and was even panting a little when he finished.

 

Magnus stood up abruptly, and Alec looked a little worried, but still showed no uncertainty or regret for what he’d just said. He met Magnus’s eyes unflinchingly.

 

Magnus walked over and slowly, like a skittish cat, sat beside Alec, and curled up half in his lap. Alec instinctively began stroking his hair. Magnus wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in his stomach.

 

“I love you, Alexander,” he mumbled, muffled in Alec’s shirt.

 

“I- I love you too,” Alec said, clearly caught off guard.

 

“And I need you around, so much, and that’s exactly why. I know you think I’m the one who’s always composed, and you think I’m giving up my day to take care of you like it’s a chore, but I’m not the strong one here. I get up every morning and I put my mask on, I act untouchable because I’m a firm believer in fake-it-till-you-make-it, but I need you to remind me how to be this. Sometimes I’m so scared that I’m going to turn into a cold hearted immortal like- like Camille, but you keep me from that. You keep me grounded. I take care of you because you take care of me, in ways you can’t even begin to understand. You don’t even know how much I need you.”

 

Alec tugged lightly on his ear, making him turn so he was facing up, and saw that Alec was smiling and looking at him with such raw and certain love that he could nearly cry.

 

“I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you needing me. I’m right here, and I’m staying, and I’ll keep you warm and real,” he said gently. 

 

“Thank you,” Magnus murmured, reaching up to brush a hand over his jaw lovingly. Alec squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and Magnus laughed a little. “Anyways, I couldn’t get mean and cold with your fever keeping me warm.”

 

Alec tweaked his ear again and laughed. “Way to ruin the moment.”

 

“Ruin the moment? I’d say your lovely speech was already ruined on account of saying it all with a stuffy nose-,”

 

“Maybe I’m just overcome with emotion!”

 

“Overcome with germs, more like.”

 

“Like this big one that gets glitter all over me all the time, that’s the worst germ around.”

 

“I recall you asking me to glitter you up last Saturday-”

 

“You liked it as much as I did.”

 

“Darling, those cheekbones were made for glitter highlight, it’s not my fault your bone structure is better than any makeup model I’ve ever met.”

 

“Artist talent was more of a contribution than the canvas, I’d say.”

 

“I’ll admit, I’m pretty amazing at makeup.”

 

“You’re pretty amazing at everything.”

 

“Love you too, Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> These snugglebugs. I actually thought I finished this yesterday, but I've been stewing over the ending for a while. I didn't like where I'd stopped, so went and rewrote it so that we could have this mutual love and support thing going on. Because they are the most perfect and healthy couple that this trash world doesn't deserve <3
> 
> As I said before, if anyone has any prompts or something they'd like to read, let me know down in the comments! I've got several other Malec fics written and would love to add more, so check those out and let me know what else you'd like to see!


End file.
